


Whistle-Stop Beach

by Nanners (nanjcsy)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cannibalism, Coastal Horror, Mild Gore, Multi, Some dark comedy, Supernatural Elements, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 18:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20710454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanjcsy/pseuds/Nanners
Summary: Small coastal towns are safe, clean and as modern or as quaint as one could want. They are good places to visit, wonderful to live. Some are willing to pay any price to live in such a nice place. Some are willing to pay any price for many different reasons. Others find the beach to be the end of their world, they find horror, they find justice drowned or buried.The beach hears, it listens, sees, feels and takes in every prayer, belief, rant. Every scream, every frustrated grumble, tearful whispers.  It takes everything it's given.  Trash, urine, feces, blood, chemicals and it tries to absorb, cleanse it. The beach gives back all it has, fish, lobsters, clams, crabs, lovely water, pristine sand, rocks, dead bodies.The beach is angry, it is full and sickened. It is diseased and polluted. It's time for the town to pay.





	Whistle-Stop Beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs that inspired this chapter/character/scene:  
Walk Of Shame by Pink  
Attention Please by Caroline Spine
> 
> (The songs I use are all on Spotify!)

**"WHORE!"**

Deb's heels stopped the frantic clicking on the concrete beach way. Head snapping up, eyes looking like a hunted rabid racoon with smeared thick black eyeliner. Those bloodshot eyes zoomed in on the largest ugliest seagull she's ever seen. Brownish-red streaks spattered dull grayish white feathers that looked old spiky and ragged. It's black beady orb seemed interested in the shame of walk of this college girl.

"Huh?"

The seagull tipped it's beak then bobbed it minutely while it craned it's neck up then fluttered it's feathers before resettling. As if to use it's cracked yellow beak to point out the stains on last night's club dress that was too short and sexy for daytime small town beach walks.

**"WHORE!"**

Deb glared at the bird as one of her sweat sticky hands tried to pat at the remnants of an epic hairstyle. Sniffing with indignation, trying not to let the tears sting her eyes, Deb found herself muttering at the bird.

"Well, fuck you. Don't need your damned opinion, fucking raggedy ass beach chicken."

In the early sunlight hours of the end of a scary but fun summer, Deb is unable to enjoy the golden damp world around her. She has blisters on her feet, the only item in her possession was a form from the police station. Ditched at a party in the city by her so called friends, purse stolen by some guy dancing with her and stranded. If Deb hadn't run into her college professor, who knows what would have happened?

It would have been better to have taken his offer for a car home last night or even this morning, but it didn't seem right to do that. Deb couldn't afford to pay him back for such an expense without using up most of her allowance from home. The professor had said he wasn't looking to be paid for a favor but that wasn't how Deb was raised. Of course, spending the night getting drunk, having sex with her _middle aged, married with children_ professor wasn't something her family raised her to do either.

**"WHORE!"**

Deb was pulled from her guilty confused thoughts as she staggered past the seagull and winced at the judgemental caw. But this time there was the tiniest bit of apprehension as she stared at the bird only inches from her. It sat upon the railway, the open ocean and pinkish gold sky as it's glorious backdrop. Breathing a little heavy, Deb lifted her chin and laughed at herself. Shaking her head, she flipped her middle finger at the bird and kept walking.

**"WHORE!"**

The fluttering of wings startled Deb almost into running but instead she spun back around just to see the bird right next to her now. Large rubbery, leathery talons wrapped tightly around the small rusting spot on the metal railing as it's feathers resettled around his large imposing frame. Deb had so many worries and pains, her mouth felt like vomit and semen.

Perhaps just grabbing the ten bucks and leaving the professor asleep in the cheap motel to get back to her college sorority house wasn't the best of ideas? Head pounding, stomach churning, the mere thought of vodka nearly brought her to her knees. Swallowing dryly, Deb wondered if she was having an hallucination or something? Was she about to faint or have a seizure or some shit? There is no way that a seagull is SPEAKING, calling her a whore.

Even if it was a speaking bird, such as a parrot, how could a bird judge her? Silly. Ridiculous. And if the bird was following, it must be hungry, maybe she smells like those damned nachos that spilled all over her. That was right before she was ditched for being clumsy and unsociable. Bitches. All of them dressed just as trashy, they talked her into the damned slumming trip. Then they dumped her because she accidentally dropped the damned nachos.

**"WHORE!"**

Deb jumped, felt the ass of her dress just give a sound like a fart then she felt air. Not the rush of hot gas because it wasn't a fart, that would have been better. Instead this was the early morning summer beach air pressing at semen stained silk panties. The think fabric of the dress had ripped, leaving a hole in her backside. A large one.

It was the last shitty straw to a already shitty situation and she lost her mind. It was the only excuse for her to take a step towards the damned provoking bird and shook a stiff finger at it, yelling.

"ARE YOU SHITTING ME? BE A BIRD, SHUT THE FUCK UP! YOU DON'T! DON'T TALK! SHUT UP!"

Deb heard the truck door slam nearby and it made her fucking bristle that the damned bird didn't fly off at the abrupt sound. Of course, it should have flown off at the aggressive movements and yelling. Deb looked at the seagull, really looked at the battle scarred old bird with one eye. It was a glistening black orb that seemed to see down to the core. Deb hated the fucking thing suddenly, just fucking hated it.

"Shut up. I will fucking END you! Don't you fucking call me a whore, you grungy dumpster duster! Fucking ocean vulture! Shut your beak!" 

The bird extended it's beak, tilted it's head and peered straight into Deb's over tired eyes. She watched numbly. The beak had a roadmap tiny blackish red cracks cutting through the dingy yellow. Opening like a slow bridge, dirty rubbery hungry gaping maw and then reality just ripped away. Deb actually FELT her sanity rip and it sounded terrible. Losing sanity felt like fabric ripping and it sounded like the world shrieking the last bad thing you've become.

**"WHORE!"**

Deb glared at the seagull and pounded her chest once with a fist. She would take on the fucking challenge, fine. It spoke. The damned seagull was calling her a whore and since that just doesn't work in her world, this wasn't her world. It was a dream, it was a seizure, it was being strapped down somewhere but it wasn't real or happening. So Deb extended her arms and put up her middle fingers at it then spit out a hateful challenge.

"You feathery cunt. I will fuck you up! I'll break your neck, cook you for my fucking supper! So fly away, bitch!"

**"WHORE!"**

Out of the corner of her eye, Deb saw the driver of the truck watching her. Deb knew he wasn't close enough to understand the problem but he could see and hear the lunatic challenging a seagull. Recalling how she looks, she grabbed the ripped backside of her dress and glared at the bird. Dimly, Deb also could hear other sounds, like crashing surf, faint sounds of traffic and the happy gurgling toddler somewhere nearby.

Deb didn't understand why she would dream these details but who cares. Seagulls don't talk, they don't stalk humans to call them whores. They certainly don't just release their talons from the steel railing to LURCH, a great flapping of wings and then a sharp beak. A terrible stink of bird shit, seeping scent of rotting sea life and low tide. The burst of pain, it wasn't anything Deb has experienced before.

The beak and talons were everywhere, her hands and face seemed to be the target. Screeching, whirling, punching, grabbing at the bird and only coming away with feathers. Where was help? Deb felt the steel railing slam into her spine as her expensive thin heel of her Jimmy Choo sandal just snapped in half. Breathing was blood and feathers, thick, obnoxious thick fluid, the bird took a shit in her mouth. 

Rage, outrage, it blew out of proportion, it filled the rest of her as Deb spit out the shit from her mouth. She's spent YEARS swallowing words, thoughts and recently, some semen. But to literally eat shit was still a low Deb wasn't willing to go. There were limits. Had to be some limits and Deb swung a good punch with a delicate fist that sported a very sharp ring. 

The burning of her flesh was eased by feeling the noxious plump flesh under those feathers give way to the cut diamond marquis. With a terrible shriek of pain, the bird pulled away and Deb fell to the ground. Trying to spit, cough, vomit, wipe her mouth and get to her feet, without much success. A meaty hand grasped her and Deb found her footing. Trying to blink, everything was crimson colored and Deb swayed, seeing her own finger on the concrete walkway. Not on her left hand.

It looked discarded, chipped paint, glitter faded from the carefully crafted nail. Next to the broken heel of the Jimmy Choo sandal that Deb had borrowed. The finger was hers but the shoes were borrowed from a very rich mean girl she needs to live with for the next year. Which one Deb might have picked up became a moot point as the bird dove for her again.

**"WHORE!"**

The man tried to flap his arms and a screaming toddler let Deb know someone was probably calling emergency services by now. That's good because this dream wasn't a dream. Dreams don't bleed, don't hurt like this. Beak pecking relentlessly, talons shredded and pulling at her clothing and flesh as if to lift her away. To clutch her like a fish and fly over rocks to smash her down on. Then eat, peck, pull out the tender meat that spills from her broken body.

Lunging, spinning, Deb stumbled off the stone curb of the beach walkway. Falling, hip smashing hard into the headlight of the man's truck. Talons caught in her hair, shredding her scalp, hair yanked out in bloody chunks. Deb pinwheeled off the truck and into the street. Crimson smears, dirty feathers that stunk, starbursts of pain. Blinking, Deb heard the scream of the man and others before she heard the approaching engine.

Shining, hot steel grille large as an Aztec building and Deb felt the world collapse on top of her. As reality burst into horrific artwork of gore and agony, a fluttering sound as the seagull flew out of the way. Just before the roar of the metallic dragon destroyed her, Deb heard the fucking thing one last time.

**"WHORE!"**

The toddler was the only one to see the great big mean seagull swoop low and snatch up that finger. His mother shrieked once as the bird soared over them and towards the sky. Soaring with a confidence and grace that such a savage ragged scavenger shouldn't have, it boldly took it's prize beyond the restaurant on the cliff nearby.

Pointing a chubby finger towards the sky, the small boy remarked,

"Birdie!"

He didn't' understand why that made his mother cry and hug him so hard that he lost his breath.


End file.
